Mireia Martínez: "I would have appreciated it if someone had told me: 'Don't worry, you'll be able to see your brother's body.'"

BarcelonaMireia Martínez was 22 years old on August 17, 2017, when her three-year-old brother Xavi was murdered on Barcelona's La Rambla. In recent years, she has decided to train as an emergency psychologist and has been with his father in activism for the rights of victims of terrorism. With him and other members, the month of May They presented the 17-A Association: We Want to Know the Truth.

You've been critical of the way the administration has handled things since April 17th. What did you miss most?

— At first, the worst part was that we were completely alone. When something like this happens to you, the shock is so great that you can't process the information properly. Imagine having to go through institutions you don't know, going to the police station, to the CAP to get an injury report for a trial you don't even know you're going to have yet... It's a constant revictimization. I would have appreciated someone telling us, "I'll come with you here," "Do this," or "Don't worry, you'll be able to see your brother's body." We had questions like, "Why are they keeping a body in the City of Justice for five days?"

Didn't they receive any instructions?

— No. My aunt was in Ibiza, I was in Almería, and my father was there alone. That day, he returned home alone, not knowing where he should go the next day or what he should do, having left my brother at Sant Pau Hospital. We waited five days to bury him. My father went every morning, alone, to the City of Justice to ask for information. Day after day, like a repeating nightmare. A person whose cognitive abilities are not at their best needs support.

What went wrong?

— I think almost everything failed. The emergency systems were overwhelmed, even though everyone went above and beyond their duties. But perhaps that's what I'm complaining about. Emergency psychologists have always been seen as volunteers, so to speak. And no. It's a job, and it should be protocolized jointly with all emergency services. I know it's being done.

When else would you have appreciated someone accompanying you?

— One day, the Mossos d'Esquadra called us, warning us they were coming to our house to take fingerprints. The whole family was devastated. They searched for fingerprints everywhere, they took toys... These are very strict protocols in terms of revictimization, and they leave us with images we'll never forget. It's not just the moment of the incident; what's been worse for us is everything that came afterward. For example, the autopsy. I now know that in any death that isn't natural and becomes judicial, an autopsy is necessary, but no one explained this to us. When you imagine a 3-year-old child undergoing an autopsy, the first thing you think is that the family won't be able to see it. But if they told you they would, the anguish and distress would have been different.

Now that you're dedicated to emergency psychology, how do you rate the care you received?

— I can't rate it because it was nonexistent. I should say zero. It was hard to get psychological treatment. At the hospital, although they made me a priority, they treated me eight or nine months later, and they visited me every three weeks or every month. Finally, through the UAVAT (the Unit for the Care and Assessment of People Affected by Terrorism), Sara Bosch recommended a psychologist who had worked with grief, withRelatives of Germanwings victims. She gave me free therapy for a year because I hadn't yet received any help from the ministry. This is another concern for the victim: Maybe I can't afford it. How do I repay this woman for everything she's done for me?

Now you're working with her. What's the job like?

— Yes. When he discharged me, he told me he wanted me on his team. I'm a child and adolescent psychologist, specializing in children, trauma, and grief. Last year, I decided to train in emergencies and finished my master's degree in May. When DANA came out, I was studying for my master's degree, and I worked there with the NGO Educo, with children from the Orba school in Alfafar. It was an amazing experience. They were the same age Xavi would have been.

The work of psychologists always has an emotional charge. Is it even more so because of your lived experience?

— Yes. Sometimes intrusive thoughts come to me. In fact, I took my master's degree as a test. If a doctor has a blood phobia, they can't be a doctor. I wanted to be an emergency psychologist, but maybe I couldn't. Everyone has their limits. I've been to terrorist attack and fire drills, and I still don't know how my brain will react in an emergency; no one does. But I think I'm prepared. Besides, being in the role of victim is very different from being in the role of psychologist. So what matters is the person, not you.

When did you decide to become a psychologist?

— When the attack happened, I was 22 years old and in my second year of psychology. I wanted to quit. I thought, "What's the point? When things like this happen, no one helps you and there's nothing prepared." But one day the Mossos d'Esquadra came to pick us up to go to an event, and while chatting with the officers, the subject came up. I remember them saying to me, "Mireia, don't you see that with what you've been through, and if you're still training, you can really help?" We had a really nice chat, and in the end, I kept going.

How would you explain the importance of psychological support?

— It's everything; a 10. When something like this happens to you, you're no longer the same person. You've broken, the clock has stopped, you start to experience post-traumatic symptoms, your brain begins to transform, your social environment transforms. I went from being a super-happy girl with lots of friends to having no one. Not because of the people, but because you isolate yourself unintentionally; your life begins to have other priorities. They sold me thoughts like: "After this, how do I smile again?" or "How do I ever enjoy something as silly as listening to music?" I went six months without turning on the car radio, and I didn't know if I'd be able to go back to university.

Was it very difficult for you to return?

— I returned two months later, around November. Before that, I couldn't even go to Barcelona. I was also worried about what I'd have to explain to my classmates. There were a lot of things, but the university made things very easy for me. My classmates decided it was best not to talk about anything. I don't know if it was better or worse, because I felt very alone. Surrounded by psychologists and very alone. No one approached me, no one said anything to me. No one knew how to do it. I was lucky to have two or three professors who were always there for me. They took me out to eat and talked to me. You value all these things and you remember them very well.

What other things helped you?

— The good faith of the people. It's a shame, because it should also be the case in the professional sphere. For me, many social values were broken. You spend your life trusting in the state, because that's what should protect you. You pay taxes for that, right? And when something of that magnitude happens to you, one of the most serious things that can happen to you in life, you don't have that support. And you question everything. Continue studying? Why? Do I go to work? Why? It's still an internal struggle. You do it, but not with the same eyes or the same enthusiasm. The images afterward affected me much more. I wasn't just traumatized by the event, but by everything that came afterward.

It's certainly not pleasant to have to remember that.

— It has to be done. It has to be talked about, because it has to serve a purpose. I haven't said it that many times either. Even today, when I meet new people, I don't know when these things are said. It's a dilemma I still have. I've met many classmates from my master's program now, and obviously, I didn't say a word. But, wow, it's 80% of my life.